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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722243">Disaster Chef</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanBeezie263/pseuds/VanBeezie263'>VanBeezie263</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domestic Damie [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff and Humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanBeezie263/pseuds/VanBeezie263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie wants to cook a nice home cooked meal for her girlfriend, but her previous bouts in the kitchen have proven unsuccessful. So, she enlists the help of her trusted friend and Bly's best chef; Owen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dani Clayton/Jamie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domestic Damie [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Disaster Chef</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Three Years Ago</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have created a monster.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie ponders to herself whilst she stares with absolute disgust at the burnt concoction stuck in the baking dish sitting atop her kitchen counter. She glances at the picture in the cookbook stained by her current cooking endeavour, the photo of what the meal is supposed to look like. Her green eyes shift back to the inedible monstrosity, she breathes a resigned sigh before scraping a piece of the food with a spatula into a tupperware container that she packs into her backpack. She carries the backpack on one shoulder and heads for the front door of her flat, grabbing her keys as she leaves. She tugs her door open and peers over her shoulder, glaring at the offending food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yep, a work of science fiction.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, she knows just the right person who can put her on the right track to make something that will least not reduce someone to food poisoning.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jamie meanders into the manor’s kitchen during her lunch break, spotting her target at the long, island counter where he is preparing an assortment of sandwiches for everyone’s lunch. He perceives the gardener as she makes her way towards the refrigerator, greeting her with a welcoming smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good afternoon, Jamie.” Owen said brightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Afternoon, Owen.” The brunette opens the fridge, searching the shelves for her container storing her abomination. She furrows her brows when she comes up short and she closes the fridge door before eyeing the cook with suspicion. “Owen, mate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Jamie?” Owen replied, focusing on slicing the sandwiches so he does not cut himself with the knife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie slowly swaggers towards the island counter with her eyes narrowed at the friendly man, “Did ya happen to spy a blue container in the fridge?” She questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As a matter of a fact, I did,” Owen’s face then scrunched with revulsion as he recalled the contents, “I assumed by the look </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the smell that whatever was in the container had expired, so I threw out the food and washed up the container.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie places both of her hands firmly on the island counter in front of the cook whilst she fixes him a sharp stare, “You prat. I tried my hand at cooking and I wanted your opinion on what I did wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen pauses from slicing a sandwich, bewilderment painted across his face, “You cooked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Jamie replied firmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But, you never cook.” Owen pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie rolls her eyes at her comrade, “I know, Captain Obvious. That is why I wanted your opinion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you got it.” Owen quipped good naturedly. However, he notices the slight frown on the brunette’s face, “But, I can give you a few pointers and teach you some easy cooking techniques, if you want me to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jamie perks up at his suggestion, “that would be great. Thanks, Owen mate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great!” Owen brings his hands together excitedly in a single clap. “First of all, what on Earth were you trying to make?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lasagne.” Jamie replied with a shrug of her shoulders, as if her container of food is easily distinguished as the pasta dish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was a lasagne?” Owen said, awestruck. He glances back and forth between the gardener and the rubbish bin before recognition dawns on his face. “If my memory serves me correctly, Ms. Clayton stated that lasagne was her favourite food.” He mentioned with a knowing smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perceptive, aren’t ya?” Jamie pinches a slice of cheese to chew and pushes herself away from the counter. “Is it a crime to want to cook a nice home cooked meal for your girlfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is if you serve her that.” Owen points his cheese knife towards the bin, gesturing to the so-called food that the gardener cooked earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie scowls at the cook, “That is why I need the bloody pointers!” She takes a calming breath before adding, “I just...I want to do something special for our six month anniversary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen leans forward to gaze intently at the brunette, who he considers one of his closest friends, “I apologise for the teasing, but I will teach you a few things that will aid you in the kitchen, and make Dani the most delicious lasagne she has ever had.” He assured with a wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie smiles in gratitude at him, “Cheers, Owen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you are not busy tomorrow morning, I can teach you then while Dani is preoccupied with the children’s English lesson?” Owen suggested, earning a nod of the head from the gardener.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next morning while Dani is teaching the children in the classroom, and Hannah is busy with chores, Owen begins his cooking lesson with Jamie in the kitchen. He unloads an array of ingredients from two paper bags onto the island counter whereas the brunette’s green eyes scan the food items curiously, quirking an eyebrow when she spots fresh tomatoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m making the sauce from scratch?” Jamie questioned in disbelief. “Are you having a laugh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to, I know a few tricks.” Owen finishes unpacking and grabs the necessary utensils to prepare and cook the lasagne. He gestures at the ingredients with a wave of a hand, “This probably looks like much, but I assure you it is easier than you think, and under my tutelage you will have mastered this dish to a fine art.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie scoffs whilst she examines an onion, “Yeah, I doubt that.” She muttered under her breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First, we make the cheese filling.” Owen grabs the tub of ricotta cheese and peels off the lid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheese filling?” The gardener repeated with skepticism. “I thought it was a white sauce?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cook pulls out a tablespoon from a drawer and he starts scooping out the cheese from the tub into a bowl, “It is. However, I find the cheese filling is much richer and tastier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie holds up her hands in mock surrender, “You’re the trained chef.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way, what did you use to make your white sauce?” Owen asked, handing her a cheese grater and a wedge of parmesan cheese. “Because, it did not look anything like the stuff that comes in jars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know exactly what white sauce was, so I just grabbed a tin of chicken and mushroom soup that I had lying about in the cupboard. I figured it was white, sort of, and it would do the trick.” Jamie makes short work of grating the cheese, and after she has finished the task she gazes up at the cook, who is staring at her in mortification.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen blinks his eyes as he regains his composure, clearing his throat before he speaks. “C-Chicken and mushroom soup?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie rolls her eyes and exhales out through her nose at his reaction, “Yeah I know, Owen. I made a boo-boo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you thinking, woman?” Owen said aghast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie shrugs her shoulders in response, “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking, </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘Oh fuck, I don’t have any white sauce. Guess this will do.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nevermind.” Owen sighed. He mixes the grated parmesan and three quarters of a bag of grated mozzarella into the ricotta whilst the brunette studies everything the cook does attentively and takes mental notes. “Let’s move on to the marinara sauce.” He announced after adding chopped parsley and one beaten egg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie winces as she rubs the back of her neck in embarrassment, “You’re not going to like what I used to make that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cook shifts his eyes to the brunette with trepidation, “What did you use?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my defense, the shop had run out of the sauce in jars.” Jamie pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you use?” Owen repeated in a firm voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie scratches her forehead while she thinks, “Um, tomato ketchup. I think a whole bottle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen raises a hand over his mouth to cover his whimpers of disapproval whilst the gardener continues to list the ingredients she used.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beef gravy granules, since I had no beef stock. A tablespoon of Bovril to give it more of a meaty taste and thicken the sauce. Mustard, as it goes well with beef. A couple of whacks on the bottle of the ol’ brown sauce. As for the cheese, I mostly used cheddar but I ran out, so I used a couple of Babybels to top it off along with the soup.” Jamie perceives the cook staring at her with widened eyes and a hand still covering his mouth with an expression of utter mortification.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen wipes a hand across his face, “Christ.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie’s face crinkles in realisation, “Now that I think about it, I don’t blame ya for tossing it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about I show you how to do the sauce properly?” Owen suggested, grabbing a pot and placing it atop the oven on the hob. “First of all, let’s chop those tomatoes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie glances between the tomatoes on the counter and the cook, “There are like two dozen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chop, chop.” Owen said, smiling in amusement whereas the brunette grumbles to herself whilst she grabs a knife and she begins chopping the tomatoes.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Now that the sauce is bubbling away, we season it to give it that oomph.” Owen gestures to the pantry where the spices and dried herbs are stored, prompting Jamie to open the pantry door and grab the herbs and spices that the cook requires. “We need basil, oregano, rosemary, parsley, thyme, chilli flakes, and garlic powder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems simple enough.” Jamie places the herbs and spices on the counter next to the oven. “Sooo, how much of this stuff do ya use?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen hands her a metal tablespoon, “I will tell you the quantity of each, and you will add it to the pot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Jamie hovers the spoon over the spices as she awaits further instructions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, two tablespoons of basil. Two tablespoons of oregano. Two tablespoons of parsley. One tablespoon of rosemary, thyme, and the chilli flakes each.” The cook directed which the gardener complies. “Good, now add a teaspoon of garlic powder and a reasonable sprinkling of salt and pepper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie grabs a nearby teaspoon and adds the garlic powder before grinding a good amount of black pepper and sprinkling salt into the pot. “This is kinda relaxing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now add two teaspoons of sugar.” Owen instructed, earning a look from the brunette conveying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you fucking kidding me, mate?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sugar?” Jamie questioned, dumbfounded. However, she knows her friend takes cooking very seriously and she does what he says. “I didn’t realise we were making a fucking cake.” She muttered to herself as she added the sugar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen relinquishes his wooden spoon to the gardener and steps aside so she can stand in front of the pot. “Now, stir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie firmly grabs the spoon by the handle and she begins stirring the spices into the sauce, a bit too vigorously for the cook’s liking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about you do it less like a Disney villain and a bit more gentile?” Owen advised, his tone teasing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie rolls her eyes and she slows her pace of the stirring. “How long do I do this for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen peers over her shoulder to inspect the sauce, “That is good enough. You need to remember to stir it once in a while so it does not catch, saves doing the more tedious washing up.” He grabs a frying pan, drizzling a bit of olive oil on it so he can brown the beef mince. “This sauce is fine, but if you think your sauce is a bit thin just keep adding a tablespoon of tomato paste or puree until it is that consistency.” He points to the pot to elaborate his point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the pro tip.” Jamie grabs the tablespoon that she used to add the spices, and dunks it in the sauce so she can give it a taste. She nods her head in satisfaction, “That is the dog’s bollocks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am glad it gets the Jamie Taylor stamp of approval.” Owen winks at the brunette and he adds the beef mince to the pan while she observes his actions. “However...I do recall </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>once eating a whole, raw white onion as part of a bet.” He fixes her a pointed look which she garners that he must have learnt from the housekeeper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easiest twenty quid I ever made.” Jamie replied with an amused smirk, she crosses her arms across her chest as she watches the cook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you want to brown </span>
  <em>
    <span>lean </span>
  </em>
  <span>beef mince on a medium heat until there are no pink bits, and you must drain any fat.” Owen informed, he adds diced onions to the pan before handing the gardener a garlic crusher. “Two cloves please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie shoves a clove of garlic into the crusher, holding it above the pan as she squeezes the crusher with ease, marvelling at the garlic puree. “This is a nifty gadget.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That smells divine, Owen.” A familiar voice commented from the archway that leads to the foyer, leading the duo to turn around where they find Hannah sauntering further into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hannah.” Owen smiles warmly at the housekeeper. “Buuuut, I cannot take all the credit. I had a little help.” He angles his head in the gardener’s direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jamie?” Hannah eyes the other woman with curiosity. “The only </span>
  <em>
    <span>cooking </span>
  </em>
  <span>I have seen you partake in, is when you are boiling the kettle to make yourself a Pot Noodle for lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Jamie glares with no malice at the housekeeper, “That shite is good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take your word on it.” Hannah remarked with a hint of sarcasm. She averts her attention back to the cook, “Isn’t it a bit early to cook dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just giving Jamie a cooking lesson.” Owen leans forward to whisper into the housekeeper’s ear, “She wants to impress Ms. Clayton.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah nods her head in understanding, smiling coyly as she says, “I better leave you to it then.” She turns on her heel and exits the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie scowls playfully at the cook, “You are such a snitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s resume with your lesson, shall we?” Owen suggested changing the subject.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Now that we have browned the mince, mixed it with the sauce, and made the cheese filling, we combine them all and layer them in the dish.” Owen hands the brunette the wooden spoon whilst they stand in front of the island counter where the baking dish is situated so they can add all the components. “It goes sauce, lasagne sheets, cheese, and you repeat that until the dish is almost filled with the sauce on top, to save room for it to be topped with the rest of the grated cheeses later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sauce. Sheets. Cheese.” Jamie repeats under her breath whilst she scoops some of the sauce into the dish. She tears open the packet of lasagne sheets and glances between the pasta and the dish, “How many sheets do I use?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just enough to cover the sauce. In a dish that size, three sheets work fine.” Owen assured, observing the gardener.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, if I manage to pull off recreating this, do you think you could show me how to do other dishes?” Jamie pondered out loud, slapping the sheets onto the sauce.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Owen replies with no hesitation. However, he winces with disapproval whilst he watches her apply the sheets. “Gentile, like you are tucking the sauce into bed.” He directed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is bloody beef mince and tomato sauce.” Jamie lets out a sigh in frustration, but she does what the cook says and applies the third sheet with a more deft touch. “Happy?” She huffed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very.” Owen said with a pleasing smile, and he points to the cheese filling. “Cheese.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Jamie adds the cheese filling and she repeats the process until the dish is almost full, leaving room for the grated cheeses. “Shall I pop this in the oven?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but first you need to cover the top of the dish with tin foil.” Owen retrieves a roll of tin foil from one of the cupboards, handing it to the gardener.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem.” Jamie rolls out the foil on top of the dish, tearing off a sheet that she uses to cover the lasagne. “Piece of piss.” She holds up the dish proudly and she carries it over to the oven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Place it on the middle shelf and you want to bake it for 45 minutes.” Owen instructed, opening the oven door so the feisty woman can put the lasagne in the oven. “After 45 minutes, you take it out of the oven and add the rest of the cheese. You then pop it back in the oven for a further 15 minutes or until it is a nice golden brown.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Jamie replies in acknowledgement. She lightly boots the oven door closed, gaining a look of disapproval from the cook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to kick the door.” Owen stated firmly.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Jamie and Owen are waiting to cut into the now cooked lasagne as it rests for 15 minutes on the island counter. The cook is constantly glancing at this watch while the gardener is leaning back against the counter with a cup of tea and is casually dunking a biscuit into her beverage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen taps the face of his watch with an excited smile, “Moment of truth. Would you like to do the honours?” He gestures to the lasagne with a wave of an arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie shoves the rest of the biscuit into her mouth before resting her mug on the counter. She pulls out a spatula from a holder and she approaches the dish, where she cuts out a square that she serves onto a plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She picks up a piece with a fork and inhales its enticing aroma, “It doesn’t smell of shite, so that’s good.” She chews on the piece, nodding her head in satisfaction, “That is fucking good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Owen grabs a fork and he too takes a bite, “Mmm...good job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was more of a joint effort.” Jamie reaches an arm up to pat the cook on the back, “Thanks for the lesson, Owen.” She smirks at him in appreciation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I also got you a gift for you to use in the kitchen.” Owen retrieves a mystery item from a cupboard, concealing it behind his back as he stands in front of the gardener. “My mentor at the culinary school in France gave me one like this after I finished top of his class.” He removes his arm from behind his back and presents the brunette with a wooden spoon that has a red, self-adhesive gift bow on the handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie is at a loss for words. It may seem like a small gesture, but coming from one of her closest and dearest friends...it means a lot. The gift breaks her usual cool and guarded composure which she quickly disguises with a cough. However, it does not go unnoticed by the cook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie clears her throat as she receives the spoon, “Thanks, mate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope it serves you well in your cooking endeavours.” Owen said sincerely, encouraging the gardener to pull him into a warm hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tell anyone about this, and you will wake up with stinging nettles in ya bed.” She threatened in a lowered voice with no malice.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Present Day</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie places a plate of her homemade lasagne in front of the au pair on their dining table in their shared cottage. She takes a seat opposite her fiance with a plate of her own, accompanied with a glass of red wine and lit candles on the centre of the table to celebrate their 3 ½ year anniversary. The couple clink their wine glasses together before taking a sip and digging into their meal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Delicious, as always.” Dani commented after her first bite, smiling brightly at the other woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a good thing Owen knows his shite. Otherwise we would be eating an unholy mess of a meal.” Jamie quipped with an amused smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering before we started dating you mainly consumed those Pot Noodle things and beans on toast, I dread to think.” Dani said with a grimace in a playful manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie lets out a chuckle before speaking, “I mean, I’m no Gordon Ramsay,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You swear like him though.” Dani pointed out in a teasing tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True.” The brunette agreed with a shrug of her shoulders and continued, “I’m no Gordon Ramsay, but my Italian dishes are improving. Just don’t ask me to cook a rack of lamb or...pheasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pheasant?” The blonde questioned with a giggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Pheasant, duck, goose, and fucking quail.” Jamie scowls in a comical manner, “Owen told me those fuckers can be tricky to cook to perfection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gardener’s remark causes the au pair to burst out laughing which the brunette soon joins in on. However, she releases a slurry of curse words when she remembers something, and she bolts from her chair to the oven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie yanks open the oven and she uses a tea towel to pull out a baking tray, “I did it again!” She uses the tea towel to hold up the charred remains of a baguette of garlic bread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everytime, you always forget the garlic bread.” Dani mentioned, using her hand to hide her giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie sniggers at the burnt remnants and tosses the baguette into the bin before returning to her seat at the dining table. “Who needs garlic bread anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dani smiles with adoration at her soon-to-be wife and leans forward in her seat, “Happy anniversary, Jamie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie reciprocates the smile as leans forward across the table, “Happy anniversary, Poppins.” Her lips meet her fiance’s across the table in a passionate kiss.</span>
</p>
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